Mulligans
by jerzeegurl
Summary: Takes place during 2.05, Gimcrack & Bunkum. While golfing with the Attorney General, a distracted Nucky recalls a bygone summer when his relationship with Jimmy was on very different terms.
1. Chapter 1

**Memorial Day, 1921**

He heard the gulls calling in the distance. The soft rush of the surf behind him, he kept his eyes forward gazing just a fraction above the audience and into the cerulean sky; his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and agony of betrayal to the point where he thought that those sitting around him must certainly hear it beating too.

_The little prick._ He actually pulled it off. Eloquently, no less. What was supposed to be the perfect opportunity to put Jimmy in his place—to show the city, his wife and his child what a spineless coward he was—backfired and Nucky Thompson found himself on his feet in applause with the rest of the crowd by the time the boy finished his speech. He resisted the urge to smile (he wouldn't give Jimmy the satisfaction plus it was a solemn event) yet at the same time relished the thought that he'd had something to do with it. That, somewhere along the way, Jimmy really _had _been paying attention.

Despite his best efforts, Jimmy was still very much on his mind as he dressed for his golf outing with Harry Daugherty. The boy was, after all, the reason he was in this whole mess in the first place. _Greedy, ungrateful little bastard._ This was the thanks he got after all that he'd done for him over the years?

He vented aloud but the Attorney General didn't appear the slightest bit interested. And why should he be? He'd arrived at the Memorial Day service fresh off his train from Washington and was eager to get to their noon tee-time. Now, because of Jimmy, Nucky was forced to spend an afternoon in the hot sun chasing after a stupid little ball and kissing Harry's ass. And that was just the _start_ of the entertainment. Getting his charges moved under Federal jurisdiction would be no small feat, costing him not only time, but money. Lots of money; money he wasn't earning from the liquor business anymore because of a certain someone. His anger flared and he grimaced with determination as he exited the locker room. He was _going _to get out of this, and when he did there would be hell to pay.

He'd always been a terrible golfer. He hated the sport, but it came with the territory. Atlantic City Country Club was a classic links course, a par 5 he'd begrudgingly played many times over. Unfortunately for Nucky, knowing the layout didn't help his game and this outing proved to be no different. The third hole was a dogleg left and he shanked it, sending the ball into the rough.

"Tough break," Harry smiled sarcastically.

"Indeed, Bobby Jones," he replied with a dry chuckle. Then, checking himself as it dawned on him that the other man might sense his annoyance, he smiled widely and boastfully added, "He played here once, you know."

"Jones?"

"Mm-hmm," Nucky nodded smugly (but not _too _smugly) while reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief. Tipping the brim of his hat slightly upward, he nonchalantly dabbed the sweat from his brow then returned it to the safety of his trousers.

His caddie- a tall glass of water of about sixteen- eyed him nervously at the signal. But the Treasurer said nothing; only raising his left eyebrow ever so discretely before turning his attentions back to the Attorney General. With that, the boy was off to look for the ball…with several extras hidden in his own trousers, unbeknownst to the rest of the foursome. Nucky continued to smile and nod at Harry's senseless banter, but he was really smiling more to himself; recalling how he and Jimmy had come up with the trick over a decade ago and he'd yet to be caught.

* * *

**Summer, 1910**

**"**Nuck,I look ridiculous."

Jimmy tried to pout but couldn't contain himself. His face broke into a smirk as he stared across the store at the man before him. "So do you," he added before erupting into a fit of snickers.

"We're a couple of swells, aren't we now?" replied the older man as he buttoned his vest.

Jimmy was used to seeing him in his Sheriff's uniform and his current ensemble- although for sport-was certainly a step up. And he had to admit, the boy also cleaned up nicely; looking almost aristocratic in his new argyle sweater-vest and off-white button down shirt. The vest was a mix of light blue, navy, and tan complimenting both the color of his eyes and his pale, Irish complexion. He'd additionally treated him to a new cap, socks to match the sweater, and shoes to complete the look.

"Yeah…I guess," Jimmy muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his knee-length knickers. "I still don't see why we gotta do this. You don't even _like_ golf. Wouldn'tcha rather be fishin'?"

The kid was no fool and spoke the truth. But he was young and naïve…there was so much he didn't yet understand. It would all come in time, Nucky assured himself. He had big plans for the boy's future but, for now, needed to focus on the present.

Today they were attending a fundraising event for Vivian Lewis, the Republican candidate in the upcoming gubernatorial election. The Democrats were running Woodrow Wilson—a reform candidate—and it was imperative that they garner as much support for Lewis as possible. Maintaining an ally in Trenton would not only give him (as well as the Commodore) extra money in their pockets, but it was also good for the city- providing them with enough allocated State funding to upgrade the sewage system to account for the swelling population. All of this, of course, would have gone over the twelve-year-old's head so he stuck to his usual response when these situations arose.

"It's important to your father," he replied sternly. "Try to enunciate more while we're on the greens. Don't say, 'yeah', say 'yes sir'. And spit out your chewing gum."

"Yes sir."

The voice was quiet, the pout real this time, and Nucky couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. It wasn't _important_ to the Commodore that his son attend the event, it was _convenient_. They needed extra caddies. While Louis agreed to be seen in public with Jimmy, he resolved to let one of the other boys carry his clubs. So, Nucky and Jimmy would walk the course together.

Not surprisingly, the youth spent most of his time in the rough trying to locate one of Nucky's many botched drives. A game that would normally have taken four hours dragged on for nearly six.

The weather was unseasonably warm for early June, almost tropical. By the time they reached the back nine, Jimmy was sweating so much that his socks kept slouching. They'd had a lot of rain that spring, creating pockets of stagnant puddles in the tall grass. It was a haven for the mosquitoes and the pests wasted no time in gorging themselves, leaving welts all over his calves and ankles. Still, he didn't complain and was on his best behavior in front of both his father and Mr. Lewis. When the round was finally over, Nucky rewarded him with a five dollar bill and told him to run along. Seeing the boy's tired eyes and pink, sunburned nose, there was no reason to bring him to the "Nineteenth Hole"—he was too young for brandy and cigars anyway.

A month later, they found themselves at another booster for Lewis, although this one was much less formal—a clambake in Northside to woo the Black vote. Nucky was co-chairing the event with Albert White. A relative newcomer to Atlantic City, White was already proving himself to be a leader within the African-American community and Nucky made a mental note to nurture their business relationship as it may come in handy in the future. Eli was in attendance as well; the young deputy thrilled to be off-the-beat and engaging in some of the other aspects of his elder brother's affairs.

The heat wave that began earlier that summer carried on, with only a few breaks in between. Today the mercury soared well into the 90's. The three walked the buffet line last- allowing the guests partake in the feast-and Jimmy helping himself to a heaping plate of seafood, corn-on-the-cob and potato salad before plopping down on a calico blanket in the sand. He soon finished it all and turned his attentions to the paperback book he'd been carrying around in his pocket, while Nucky worked the crowd ensuring that everyone was enjoying themselves—no thanks to the Republican party.

About thirty minutes later an exasperated Eli pulled his brother aside for a quick word.

"We gotta get the kid outta here," he huffed.

"Jimmy? Is he causing trouble?" Nucky asked, somewhat confused. Sure the boy was known to play a practical joke or two, but he was never outright mischievous.

"No," Eli shook his head. Lowering his voice, he discretely eyed the buffet and continued, "He's yacking all over the place. The food's been out in the sun all afternoon, did you see how much he ate?"

"He _is _a growing boy," Nucky countered. He always quick to come to Jimmy's defense and Eli rolled his eyes. "Where is he now?"

As it turned out, the deputy already brought Jimmy back to his patrol car, but didn't want to leave without paying his adieus and explaining the situation to his brother. He was sitting in the passenger side clutching his tender abdomen when the two men approached.

"What's wrong kiddo?"

"Headache, stomachache- no big deal," he shrugged, "Think I just need to lay down for a little bit."

"Is your mother home?"

"Yeah, she should be."

"Alright then. I have to stay here, but Eli will bring you home and out of this awful heat. Take it easy."


	2. Chapter 2

He'd never felt so weak. White-knuckled, he gripped the railing of stairwell, stopping on every landing to catch his breath on the way up to the third floor. The Penthouse his mother would joke.

Gillian sat at the vanity in her room brushing out her long hair. "Hi, sweetie!" she called casually without getting up.

Exhausted, Jimmy went straight to his room, collapsing on the small bed. He pulled a thin blanket over himself and curled into a ball. He was sweating and freezing at the same time and he didn't understand how that was possible. His head was pounding so he closed his eyes as the nausea mercilessly returned. Hearing him gag, Gillian finally popped her head in his doorway.

"Jimmy!" she gasped and was at his bedside in an instant. "You're burning up," she murmured fretfully as she checked his temperature.

She glanced at the clock, it was almost four and she was scheduled to perform at the dinner show in an hour. Pursing her lips, she went to the hall closet and got out a washcloth. After running it under cold water in the kitchen, she quickly returned to his room. She placed the cool rag over his temples and Jimmy shuddered, his body already raked with the chills.

"I'll be right back, Baby," she whispered. "I'm just going across the way to see if Josephine can cover my shift."

He was painfully aware that she couldn't afford to miss work and, on top of being physically ill from whatever had gripped him up, he now felt terribly guilty for burdening her. They needed to stretch every penny. They moved around a lot but always stayed in Atlantic City because that was where her job was. While they weren't starving—Nucky always helped them when he could-they did carry on a meager existence. It was bad enough that she'd recently had to barter some of her jewelry in exchange for their rent. He couldn't stand the thought of her wages being docked on his account too.

"Ma," he called after her, "Don't do that. It's just a summer bug. There's no need for you to stay. I just…wanna sleep."

She regarded him thoughtfully, believing him and looking slightly relieved that it wasn't anything serious. "Are you sure?"

He lifted the washcloth and eyed her wearily. His head was heavy and a slight nod was all he could manage. Still, she didn't fight him on it.

It was a long night. Jimmy lay half-awake, tossing and turning for hours. He was cold, then hot, then freezing again. His temples pulsed and he could swear he actually heard the blood rushing through his veins to his head. The room was spinning as the knots in his stomach gave way. And just when he thought the vomiting would stop, his body betrayed him and he was sick again. Thankfully the chamber pot was handy, he was so spent there was no way he could have made it out of the flat and all the way down the hall to the water closet. He finally drifted off, a sweaty, rumpled mess buried under the covers.

The next day he awoke to the sound of the neighborhood kids playing stick-ball in the alley below. It was nearly 11 am and he usually never slept that late. However, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was feeling much better. His symptoms had disappeared just as suddenly as they'd come on. He poured some water into the ceramic basin on his dresser, then, cupping it in his hands splashed it onto his face. It was lukewarm from sitting out in the pitcher since yesterday, but refreshing nonetheless.

Hearing him stirring, his mother approached with a small plate. "I made you some toast," Gillian said as she sat herself on the side of the bed. He plopped down next to her.

"Thanks, Ma."

"Feeling better this morning?" she inquired as he was nibbling away.

He gave a slight nod and, between bites added, "Whatever it was, it passed."

"Good," she smiled. "Don't scare me like that again Mister," she teased, giving him an affectionate poke in the ribs with her index finger. Jimmy shot her a crooked grin and rolled his eyes.

* * *

As July wore on, Jimmy couldn't help but notice that his mother had quite a spring in her step. Whether she was folding the laundry or cooking dinner, Gillian went about her chores with a smile on her face. Sometimes, she'd even hum as she got ready for work. Jimmy knew this scenario all too well- she was smitten. Whoever he was, Jimmy hoped he was better than the last fella. He couldn't stand to see her crying, and none of them ever seemed to stick around for long.

She sat across the table from him over supper one evening, grinning widely.

"What?" he questioned while she shrugged. "C'mon, Ma. You know you wanna tell me, so just say it already."

She feigned a hurt expression, but secretly delighted in how he knew her so well. "That's no way to speak to your mother," she started, her tone half-playful.

"Who is he?"

She giggled like a school-girl. "Is it _that _obvious?"

"Yes," he smirked.

"His name is Edmund," she started. "Edmund Butler. His family owns a crabbing outfit in Annapolis." She sighed blissfully. "Oh, Jimmy…" she started then paused, not sure how to proceed.

It was always a bit awkward breaking the news to a suitor that she had a child. She usually waited until the second or third date. Then, she'd lie and tell them she was a widow. It was a lot easier when he was younger. She'd dress him up in his Sunday best and parade him around; adoringly pinching the chubby cheeks he had before he lost his baby fat. Jimmy was a good boy, and most of the men seemed to genuinely like him. She made sure that _she_ was the one to end any relationship with the few that didn't.

As he got older, the conversation became more difficult. A smiling toddler was one thing, but a twelve-year-old boy was quite another. Now, instead of looking at Jimmy and seeing her intelligent, thoughtful child, her beaux only saw his age and, upon doing the math realized they would be burdened for at least another 6-8 years before he was old enough to take care of himself. While she'd had no problems accepting his financial assistance over the years, it was only recently that she'd come to fully appreciate the bond that he long shared with Nucky- let him play Daddy. Considering she hadn't had much of a childhood herself, she was certainly entitled to a little fun now.

She glanced over at Jimmy, still munching away. Her little boy was almost grown. Ironically the tables were turned and she now found it difficult explaining her status to him. Gillian took a deep breath.

"He has a boat," she said simply.

"Mr. Lancaster had a boat, too."

"This is…_different_. Edmund keeps his on the Chesapeake. He wants to take me sailing and to meet his family and I've agreed to join him."

Jimmy looked up from his plate and met her eye. The words "me and I" weren't lost on him. They were singular. Moreover, introducing her to his parents meant that Mr. Butler must be serious about her. He was keenly aware that by the time she was his age she'd been a resident of the orphanage for years. Now it was she who was abandoning him. Crushed, he looked away from her.

"You're leavin' me?"

"Only for a long weekend," she began, taking his hand. "Don't worry sweetie, you'll get to meet him soon enough. I've already spoken to Josephine and she's going to check in with you from time-to-time. And Shannon and Roxy have agreed to take my shifts while I'm away."

Guilt always worked liked a charm on him and she laid it on thick. She turned down the corners of her mouth as she spoke, and fluttered her lashes attempting to either bring on the water-works or at least give the impression that she was trying to keep the tears at bay.

Raising her pitch half an octave she continued, "Jimmy? Jimmy, _please_ don't look at me like that. I…really like this one. Don't you want me to be happy?

Gillian left on a Thursday morning and by then he was really looking forward to his independence. It was summertime and most days he was outside all day anyway, returning to the apartment only to sleep or wash. His mother made sure the pantry was stocked and left him some money for incidentals. When he was finished loading the baggage into the car Mr. Butler had sent for her, she gave him a warm smile and a hug good-bye.

"I'll be back before you know it," she purred.

* * *

Jimmy spent the early evening up on the Boardwalk with some of his schoolmates. They challenged each other playing the many games on the Midway, and he'd had a fine supper of caramel popcorn and cotton candy before turning in for the night. He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow- the annual surf fishing tournament sponsored by Young's Million Dollar Pier. He'd caught the largest flounder in last year's tournament was not about to be outdone. Nucky had off the following day, and he was to meet him at the beach no later than 9 am. Fully contented, he put his hands in his pockets as he strode back to the apartment, whistling.

Upon entering the tiny dwelling, he went to his room to change out of his clothes and gather some toiletries for a quick shower, completely missing the platter Josephine had left on the kitchen counter for him. Jimmy was unbuttoning his shirt when it struck him- a sudden, sharp pain in his head that brought him straight to his knees.

He let out a cry as he landed on the hard wooden floor, his eyes tearing up and the wind knocked out of him. He lay there powerless, recalling the day of the clambake only this headache was much, much worse. Although he was dizzy, he was finally able to right himself after several minutes. The fever was back, too, goose bumps rippling his arms and the back of his neck. Figuring it was only a matter of time before he would experience stomach issues (but hoping he wouldn't), he stumbled out of the flat and down the hall to the water closet, leaning against the wall to hold himself up. His stomach was churning painfully and he leaned over the toilet anticipating the worst but nothing came up.

Already he was sweating profusely and his wet hair fell forward into his eyes. Annoyed at the whole situation, he feebly stood up. He had to relieve himself, so he took the opportunity to do so being that he was in the bathroom anyway. Finished, he was about to flush when he noticed the color of the toilet bowel- dark brown, almost black, water. He gasped at the sight of the urine and his head started spinning.

Flustered and weak, he slowly made his way back to the apartment. It was the middle of the summer, and ridiculously hot outside, but Jimmy was freezing. Upon reaching the flat he closed all of the windows. He went to his mother's room and removed the blanket from her bed. It took all the strength he could muster to drag it back to his own room. Making sure the chamber pot was within his reach he sank into bed and swaddled the bedding around himself. Sweat was pouring down his face and his back, but he couldn't stop shivering. His teeth chattered, which only intensified the loud drumming in his head and he squeezed his eyes closed.

Hours passed one painfully after the other. Exhausted as he was, sleep wouldn't come and his suffering went on all through the night; his breathing becoming more and more labored in the stale air. Just as dawn was breaking, his nausea and cramping finally yielded to full-on vomiting. The smell in the chamber pot was putrid and only made him sicker. He found it was somewhat easier to lie on his stomach on the floor, however once he was out of bed he was too weak to climb back in. Alone and scared, he pulled the covers off and onto himself before finally slipping into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Jimmy was dehydrated and despondent when Nucky found him the following afternoon.

He initially grew concerned when Jimmy didn't show up for the fishing tournament and Eli, who'd brought his eldest son Will along for the adventure, tried his best to assure him that Jimmy merely overslept. Still, Nucky knew better. The boy had set his sights on the elusive striper this year; it was all he'd talked about for weeks. Some of Jimmy's friends were in the contest, but none of them had seen him since the previous evening. The story was the same when he checked the bait and tackle shop next to the pier. By noon young Will was getting restless, Eli was starting to lose his patience, and Nucky was really worried. Sleeping in was one thing, but Jimmy was now three hours late which wasn't like him at all. Having dropped his brother and nephew off at home, he set out for Gillian's with a lead foot on the gas pedal.

He knocked loudly on the apartment door. Hearing no response, he reached for his spare key and was surprised to find that it wasn't even locked in the first place. Upon opening the door, the hot air and rancid smell from within almost took his breath away. Surveying the surroundings, Nucky noted that the lamp in the sitting area was still on and a platter lay untouched in the kitchen. He cautiously looked around, not sure what to expect at this point, and felt his heart stop when he peered across the sitting room into Jimmy's small bedroom. A few steps later he was kneeling beside him.

"Jimmy, it's me. It's Nucky. Jimmy, can you hear me?"

Nucky cradled his head and gently slapped his pale, clammy cheek but gibberish was the only response as Jimmy's head lolled back against his shoulder. His eyes were open but glazed over, and their whites had taken on a yellowish tint. Meanwhile, his clothes were heavily soiled and wreaking something awful. Nucky wasted no time in carefully removing them down to his undergarments, lifting Jimmy's limp body off the filthy floor and onto his bed. The boy's skin was hot to touch and he felt a lump welling up in his own throat as he searched the room for the water basin.

"Help me Nuck…" Jimmy begged faintly. "_Please_…"

His mouth was painfully dry due to the loss of fluids and he turned his head slightly towards the older man, mustering only a low moan after that. Pouring him a glass of water, Nucky gently lifted it to his lips. But Jimmy was so thirsty he gulped it down and nearly choked. He coughed most of it back up, gasping for air.

"Easy now, kiddo. Can you tell me what happened?"

To Jimmy, Nucky's words sounded garbled, as if he were speaking in slow motion. At the same time, he was still too disoriented to string together more than just a few words coherently himself.

"It _hurts_," he whimpered hoarsely, his throat raw from the stomach acid. "Everything…hurts…" It was all he could manage before drawing a deep breath, finally closing his eyes and drifting into a fitful, feverish slumber.

Nucky's heart and mind were racing. Where was his mother? Though it was possible that she'd gone to fetch a doctor already, by the looks of the apartment Gillian hadn't been home the previous evening. She'd never have run up the electric bill by leaving a light on all night, nor—aside from the missing duvet cover -did her bed appear to have been slept in.

"Hello?" Called a woman's voice from behind him.

He turned his head to see a voluptuous brunette standing in the apartment's doorway. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, her hair swept back in a chignon and an apron around her waist. Seeing Jimmy spread out on the bed her face changed in horror.

"What happened?" she gasped.

Nucky needed to clear his throat before he could speak. He stifled a cough and hoped that, in his anxious state, he wouldn't vomit himself.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice sounding almost like someone else's. He knew he was powerless to help Jimmy and a rage rose up inside him…an anger he would have gladly directed at Gillian if she were there, but she _wasn't_ so this poor woman would have to do.

"Who are you?" he barked, "And where's Gillian?"

Her walnut eyes grew wide so she meekly looked at the floor and bit her lip.

"Josephine," she said quietly, "Josephine Nochi…I'm just across the hall. I heard knocking and thought I'd check in on him…I didn't mean to intrude sir."

The truth was that she didn't know where, exactly, Gillian had gone. While they were neighbors and co-workers, she wouldn't describe their relationship as _friends_, per se. She was a young widow herself (Gillian was consistent with her story) and, although she didn't have children of her own, empathized with the other woman's situation.

The Darmody's didn't bother anyone. Jimmy was always eager to open the door for her, or carry her groceries up the many stairs. All of which Gillian played upon when she asked her if she could keep an eye on the child. Ultimately, Josephine couldn't deny her—it was no trouble to bring over an extra plate for him—but knew better than to ask specifics about her plans. They obviously involved a gentleman caller and it just wouldn't have been right. At the same time, she was very much aware of the Sheriff's seedy eyes boring into her for not answering his second question.

"I…I don't know where she is sir…she asked if I could look in on him over the weekend and I agreed…"

"When is she coming back?" the Sheriff growled, trying to maintain his composure.

"Sunday, sir…but I don't know what time. I believe she's scheduled to work that evening."

"And there's no way you can reach her?"

Concerned about Jimmy and overcome at the interrogation, Josephine's eyes welled up and all she could do was shake her head no. She couldn't help but feel guilty for not speaking up the last time she saw Gillian; the least she couldn't done was obtain a telephone number or address but who knew this would happen?

"Is there anything I can do?" she offered.

Nucky shook his head, sighing heavily as he began wrapping Jimmy up like a baby in the thin flannel blanket he'd picked up off the floor. It was hardly sanitary, but it was the first item he grabbed and would have to do-at this point the boy was shivering violently.

"I'm taking him to the hospital," he advised, picking up his precious bundle. Jimmy was a dead weight, and he wasn't looking forward to the three flights of stairs but there was no alternative. "We'll be at St. Theresa's if she comes home early."

"Yes, of course," Josephine affirmed holding the apartment door open for him. "Godspeed."

The drive to the hospital was a quick one, Nucky completely ignoring several stop signs along the way. After all, he was the Sheriff and it was an emergency. Jimmy emitted a mew here and there, but never woke up. Upon putting the car in park, Nucky jumped out and hurried to the passenger side to retrieve the youth, realizing after the fact that he was in such a rush he'd left the engine running. He cursed aloud as he leaned over Jimmy to get the keys, scooped up the boy, and made his way into the lobby as fast as his feet would carry him.

He was out of uniform, but still knew many of the hospital staff personally. Atlantic City was a small town and a lot of folks that grew up there stayed. Additionally, while Louis could care less about his own flesh and blood, the Commodore was always generous to the community's working class and made sure that his minions- Nucky included- followed suit. The men were voters and the women…well, the women would remember any kindnesses paid to them and remind their spouses on Election Day.

"Helen!" he called after one of the nurses. Then, nodding at Jimmy, continued, "He needs a doctor. Is Carl on-duty today?"

He sounded ridiculous. Why else would anyone be at a hospital?

"He is, but he's on rounds right now. Let me get you a room."

Nucky followed blindly as she led them down the long, shiny corridor. The walls were bright white and it smelled of disinfectant, and it struck him that he'd never really noticed any of that before. Soon they were in a small examining room, and he gingerly put Jimmy down, laying him flat along the table against the far wall. Meanwhile, Helen took the dingy blanket and replaced it with one of soft white cotton and began to check his vitals. An orderly was passing the doorway and she called after him to stop.

"Fetch Dr. Johnson right away," she instructed. "Examining Room Four, do you understand?"

This was met with a nod and it only took a few minutes for the physician to join them.

"Carl," Nucky started, both exasperated and relieved to see his old friend.

"What do we have here?" the other man inquired and Nucky began to go over what little he knew of Jimmy's symptoms.

He stood stupidly by the door while Dr. Johnson examined the youth, and tried to listen to any comments he muttered to the nurse. Another few minutes passed and Nucky exhaled loudly. He'd been holding his breath but hadn't realized it. Seeing his contorted expression, the doctor stepped away from his patient while his nurse hurried by them and out the door.

"We're going to admit him. Helen's getting an ice water bath ready now."

"Is that really necessary?"

The physician nodded solemnly.

"He's severely dehydrated and we've got to get that fever down. I'm yet not sure of what brought it on. I've taken some blood, and it's on its way down to the lab…We're looking at a few different scenarios here, but I need a little more information," he explained.

"One is typhoid. Do you know if he's been down to the tent city?"

"No…no, I don't think so."

There were times when Jimmy was his constant companion, but there were others when neither Nucky nor Gillian could account for his whereabouts. He'd go off on his own, disappearing for hours and returning with his forearms tanned; his already golden locks further bleached by the summer sun. The kid stayed out of trouble, so Nucky never asked where he went and his mother didn't really care.

"Has anyone in the family been ill?"

This was an awkward question—Carl was aware of the family's situation, having been a medical student and allowed to accompany his father (who also a physician) when Gillian delivered her baby. Still, it was an important one and had to be asked.

Nucky was about to shake his head no when he recalled the incident at the clambake. _What if it wasn't food poisoning?_ Eli made a good point about the buffet being out in the afternoon heat, but he'd eaten plenty himself and felt fine. Moreover, he'd encountered Albert White on a number of occasions since then and he hadn't mentioned anything derogatory. White was not one to mince words when it came to advocating for his community. In fact, it was one of the reasons he was growing to admire the man. If there was _any _issue with illnesses following the picnic he'd have heard of it by now.

"He had some stomach issues about a month ago," he offered. "Thought it was food poisoning at the time but…the kid was fine within a day or so."

With this Carl raised an eyebrow. What Nucky thought was merely a minor detail obviously was not and he drew a deep breath.

"Could be Blackwater Fever," the physician said in a serious tone. "It's a complication of malaria…when left untreated the parasites go on to attack the organs-kidneys, intestines, and the like. I'll need to confirm it with the lab before we start him on any quinine."

Carl sighed inwardly. He hated this part of his job. The prognosis was poor, the mortality rate-especially for someone Jimmy's age—high. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave it a pat before continuing.

"Listen, Nucky, we'll do everything we can—I promise. But…and this is _just_ a suggestion…you may want to consider contacting his next of kin."

* * *

His knees were weak as he made his way back to the lobby. He stepped outside to try to collect his thoughts and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. With shaking hands, he was able to light one and took a calming drag. A few puffs later he threw it to the ground, stepped on it, and nodded resolutely to himself as he went back inside to the telephone booth.

He had two calls to make. The first was to Mabel to let her know what was going on. He needed the comfort of her soft, sweet voice before making the next call. Having hung up with his wife, Nucky sighed nervously before picking up the receiver again.

"This better be good Thompson," the Commodore's snarky laugh as the maid passed him the phone. A woman giggled in the background and Nucky knew that Louis wasn't alone at the moment.

"Lou, you know I wouldn't bother you if it weren't important," he started, all the while trying his best to stay both calm and firm simultaneously. "I'm at the hospital with Jimmy. He's not well at all, and I thought-"

"-You and I have very different ideas about what constitutes 'important', my friend," scoffed the other man. "Listen Nucky, how many times do I have to tell you not to fall for his poppycock? That kid'll do anything for attention; gets it from his scheming tramp of a mother. Why don't you call her?"

Click.

Nucky stood frozen in place in the small booth, receiver still in hand.

"I just thought you'd like to know," he finished quietly to himself.

He hung up and sat down on one of the benches in the lobby, trying hard not to think about Jimmy flailing around in the freezing tub while Carl and his staff held him down. He knew it was the only thing to be done for such a high temperature and was glad, at least, that he wasn't the one that had to do it.

Instead he thought of Louis, unable to fathom how cruel the man could be at times. Growing up as Ethan Thompson's son should have prepared him better, but to this day he'd never understand how any parent could knowingly and willingly hurt their child. The Commodore only saw Jimmy when it was suitable for him, and those times were far and few between; usually if he were wooing Gillian again to give her the impression that he actually cared about either of them.

_Some people just shouldn't be able to procreate_, he thought bitterly.

It wasn't fair. He and Mabel had been trying for years to start a family of their own. Hell, his kid brother was already on his third. He'd like to think that Ethan and Lou were two of a kind, but his duties as Sheriff showed him that there were many other men like that out there. Too many, in fact. And, while he was almost certain that the Commodore had never struck Jimmy (the kid was an open book and confided in him about practically everything), he witnessed the verbal jabs thrown at the boy when they were together and knew that they hurt him just as much- if not more- than any physical abuse.

He was still mulling it over when Dr. Johnson approached; his hands in the pockets of his stark white lab coat.

"You can see him now. We had to sedate him for the bath, but that was for his own safety."

And the two walked back down the corridor, where Carl showed him into a small room with two beds. The physician nodded to the other bed, then looked knowingly at his friend.

"We'll try to keep it free if we can. He's not well enough to be put on the general floor."

"Thanks Carl," Nucky muttered half-heartedly.

He meant it, of course, but couldn't bring himself to convey anything other than that and pulled a chair close to the bed.

"Visiting hours end at seven, sir," a young nurse pleasantly advised, mistakenly thinking that she was being useful.

Dr. Johnson shot her a look of reproach before adding, "This is an exceptional circumstance, Sally. Sherriff Thompson may stay as long as he needs to." She shook her head nervously by way of apology and the doctor continued, "I've got to get back to my rounds, Nucky, but I'm here until ten. They'll be other physicians on site, and you have my home number if you need _anything_."

* * *

Thus began his vigil. He hunched over, elbows on his knees, and took Jimmy's right hand in his. The boy's breathing was staggered, his pulse barely there; his fragile life hanging in the balance somewhere between two worlds.

Nucky sat there all night. Didn't move, didn't even _think_ about eating or sleeping. He found himself in the still of the early morning uttering prayers he thought he'd long since forgotten; amazed at how the Latin came flooding back to him as if he spoke it daily. He pleaded with God while cursing him at the same time. _It's bad enough you won't give me a child, __**don't**__ take this one. **Don't take my boy**. _At one point he considered making a deal with the Devil himself, until it occurred to him that he'd already done that with Louis the fateful night that Jimmy was conceived in the first place. He held up his end of it, delivering the girl from the pageant and eagerly anticipating the Commodore's reward; riding his coat tails until the right time came for the changing of the guard.

Morning came and he glanced out the window. Even the first rays of sunshine were too harsh for his tired eyes so he hung his head down and forward. He drew his left hand up to his chin, pursing his chapped lips and running his thumb along his five o'clock shadow in recollection of happier times.

When Jimmy was about 4 or so, he and Mabel were watching him one morning and he'd come bounding into the bathroom where he'd been getting ready; the barber being only a weekly luxury for haircuts in those days.

"Uncle Nucky, let me do it!"

He was so bright and innocent. Seeing the child's adoring smile, he couldn't resist and allowed him to lather both of their faces with shaving cream, smearing it all over. The boy giggled and made a mess of the sink and floor splashing water everywhere, but it didn't matter—Mabel would clean it up.

A firm hand resting on his shoulder harkened him back to the present and he looked to see his brother standing behind him. It was Saturday and-having made the schedule himself-he knew Eli wasn't on duty that day, yet the younger man's star glimmered as it caught the light.

"Mabel called last night," Eli explained as he handed him a cup of black coffee, "June's with her now. They're taking the kids up to church to light some candles and say the Rosary for him. I already spoke with the boys and everyone's on board—we have all your shifts covered. You have enough to worry about so don't worry about us."

With that Eli patted him on the back and turned to leave. Nucky knew approximately how many footsteps it took to get to the door of the room, and waited until his brother was just about there before he spoke.

"Eli?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"Sure."

Eli hadn't turn around during this exchange, so Nucky couldn't see the prideful, boyish grin he wore as he left the room; lapping up any positive recognition from his hero. Meanwhile, the coffee tasted like shit, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless so he drank it anyway.

Ultimately, Jimmy slept for close to two whole days, his long lashes finally fluttering open late Sunday morning. He groaned softly as he opened his eyes, blinking at the harsh light in the room- both from the sun and the new overhead electric bulbs- wincing and squinting as he tried desperately to focus.

"Shhh, it's okay, Jimmy," Nucky cooed soothingly, "It's okay…"

He gave his formerly limp hand a gentle squeeze as he rose from his chair to get him a glass of water from the basin. Recalling the incident at the apartment, he put a straw in this one, sitting gingerly down on the side of the bed as he lifted it to Jimmy's parched lips.

"Take it slowly, son."

The child obeyed and he watched with great joy as his Adam's apple rose and fell as he swallowed. He looked Jimmy in the eyes—bloodshot but no longer jaundice—and could see that the boy was still terrified. He leaned forward, petting his golden mane with one hand while still holding the water glass in the other. His locks were so soft and, of all the times he'd chided Gillian for not letting the kid get a decent haircut, this was the one instance he was glad she ignored him. Jimmy finished his drink and drew a long, deep breath.

"You're in the hospital," Nucky explained, "You were very sick, but everything's going to be alright now." In an effort to keep the boy calm, he tried to smile as he spoke the last words though he wasn't sure he believed them himself.

Jimmy was too weak to even lift his head, but his eyes began searching the room frantically. He pouted in both pain and frustration as he opened his mouth.

"Where's my…mom?" He croaked.

_I don't know. _

Nucky didn't say this aloud, of course. Instead he let out a hefty sigh and did what any good politician-in-training would do and told Jimmy exactly what he needed to hear at that moment. It was the only way, he justified to himself- the boy needed to maintain a positive attitude or he'd never make it out of that bed. Losing him was not an option he reminded himself as he finally opened his own mouth to respond. The only thing that surprised him was how easily the lies came flowing out.

"Kiddo, she's beside herself. You've been sleeping for a long time, gave us all quite a scare," he started, pinching Jimmy's cheek affectionately. "You know your mother…she can be _quite_ stubborn sometimes…she wouldn't leave your side. Not even for an instant. The doctors and I finally convinced her that she would be of no use to you unless she took care of herself."

He shook his head ruefully and shrugged before continuing.

"She left about ten minutes ago. Eli took her around to my house, so Mabel could fix her something to eat, and I'm to pick her up later today."

Only the last part was true. The neighbor said Gillian would be returning from wherever-the-hell she was for work that evening. He _would_ be picking her up; she just didn't know it yet. It wasn't her fault that the boy had fallen ill, but she needed to be held accountable for her poor parenting.

He heard the squeak of wheels in the hall, and began to rise.

"Be right back," he assured Jimmy while walking towards the door. Popping his head out, he saw one of the nurses approaching with the lunch cart and gave a low whistle to get her attention.

"Yes Mr. Thompson?"

"He just woke up. Is Carl here today?" he asked in a hush, careful not to further alarm Jimmy by letting on just how poor his condition was.

She confirmed that the physician was in his office doing paperwork then quickly turned to advise him of his patient's status.

As he'd done during Jimmy's initial examination, Nucky stood helplessly in the corner while Dr. Johnson took his vitals. Jimmy flinched when the physician pressed the stethoscope against his chest and Nucky felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

"Are you in pain, son?"

"Nah…It's just cold," the boy tried to smile, the corners of his mouth tilting ever so slightly up.

The doctor checked his blood pressure then stuck a thermometer in Jimmy's mouth. When the reading was finished he made sure the youth was comfortable, jotted down some notes, and discretely motioned for Nucky to join him in the hallway.

"Well?" he asked nervously.

"He's still running a slight fever, but it's down significantly from 104. I'm going to see if he's able to tolerate clear liquids. We'll get him a nice sponge bath, some fresh bed linens but then he's got to rest. He'll be bedridden for a few weeks, to be sure, but will likely make a full recovery."

The Sheriff nodded obediently. He could feel himself breaking as the relief washed over him and it was all he could do not to cry. He couldn't let Jimmy see him like that; he had to be strong for him.

Sensing his friend's anxiety, the physician cocked his head to the side in empathy.

"Nucky," he began gently- careful not to overstep his bounds, "you look like shit. My staff will be with him for a while. Why don't you head home and get yourself a decent meal and a shower? I promise I'll call you if there are any changes."

"Thanks Carl. For…everything."

Nucky cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that was stubbornly back with a vengeance. He made sure that Jimmy understood what the doctors and nurses would be doing; assuring the boy that he wouldn't be gone long and reminding him that he was bringing his mother back as well. He stole one last look at him over his shoulder as he exited the room. While almost a teenager, the boy now looked so small- his upper torso propped up against a pile of soft pillows; Helen seated at his bedside with a tray diligently spoon feeding him chicken broth. At the same time, Jimmy finally appeared to be relaxed and Nucky found himself exhaling loudly as he entered the corridor.

His heart was racing and his palms were sweating so he quickened his step. He made it to the parking lot and fished around in his pockets for his keys, crunching over the gravel in a brisk pace. His hand was shaking as he unlocked the car, slid into the driver's seat, and slammed the door behind him. Then and only then did he allow himself to cry. Resting his arms over the steering wheel, he lowered his head and heaved sob after sob until he was completely spent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Memorial Day, 1921**

The afternoon was turning out to be a complete waste of time. They were on the fifteenth hole and Nucky used up all of the spares his caddy had been carrying around. The trick had to be used in moderation. While it was crucial that the Attorney General win the match, he couldn't let him win by too many strokes and the cheating significantly cut down his handicap. Harry continued to drone on and on, taking a swig of brandy from the flask he'd brought along every now and then. He certainly liked to hear himself talk. Nucky's nerves were wearing thin, but he had to keep up the charade if he was going to get what he wanted.

He teed up his shot and brought his driver back. But Harry sneezed just as he was completing his downswing, throwing off his concentration. The ball lobbed off the tee, while a massive divot went flying about six feet in front of them.

"Nuck, why don't you take a mulligan on that one?" his companion offered in lieu of an apology.

Ah, the mulligan. The second attempt at a shot, against the rules of play but utilized whenever possible nevertheless by novice golfers everywhere.

"Harry," Nucky responded slyly, "that's an illegal shot and you know it."

"When have _you_ ever played by the rules?" his friend smiled back. "Isn't that how you got yourself into this mess in the first place?"

This was the first that Harry had brought up the election fraud after nearly three hours of play. _Finally, it's about time._ Nucky forced himself into a knowing grin, as the alternative was to grind his teeth.

_Election fraud_, he thought to himself. That was the sad irony of it all, wasn't it? Ultimately, they were almost the same charges brought against the Commodore following the 1910 election. It was really too bad that Luann hadn't finished the old dog off with arsenic when she had the chance.

Perhaps, instead of wasting the day listening to some half-inebriated windbag, he would be at the lake with Margaret and the children right now. Perhaps even, Jimmy wouldn't hate him so much and he'd be there with his family too. He paused a moment, picturing the two of them fishing while the kids built sandcastles together; Margaret and Angela setting up a picnic lunch for everyone in the cool shade of the trees behind them. A fleeting glimpse at what might have been…but now could never be. Not now, _not ever_.

Having fully recovered from the poisoning, Louis was taking full advantage of a life-mulligan. Jimmy had become convenient for him again. _How fucking timely_. Nucky couldn't image what lies he and Gillian whispered in the kid's ear (though some of it was certainly true) and wondered if things would be different if he'd only told Jimmy the truth himself that day at the hospital.

_I have __no idea__ where your mother is. And your father? I called him while you were convulsing and he hung up on me. He'd rather get his jollies with some whore than be here for you. Meanwhile I haven't slept in almost three days. You scared the shit out of me but...__I'm so glad you're okay__. _

As they say, the truth hurts and he just couldn't do it. How could he damage the boy when he was already so frail—defeating his spirit might have just killed him. Yet the time would come years later when he had no qualms about either lying to Jimmy or vindictively hurting him.

**_"I thought you loved me."_**

_"**I'm not your father James."** _

It was both a statement of truth and a lie of omission. But it was still a lie. Probably, he thought in retrospect, the worst falsehood of them all.

He placed another ball on the tee, hearing the delightful lilt of Margaret's voice cooing, "_There is another boy down the hall…" _

Here he was, againraising someone else's children. His own life-mulligan; he would do better this time.

He lined up his shot and took a few practice swings. Adjusting his hips, he carefully eyed the ball and slowly drew his club back. An instant later, the driver whipped down sending the tiny white sphere flying high and straight nearly two hundred yards.

"Four!"

"Thompson," Harry chucked, "That is the last time I ever offer you a mulligan. You've been hustling me this whole time, haven't you?"

"No," Nucky smiled proudly, "it just took me a while to get my head in the game. Now, about this new Federal prosecutor you mentioned over the phone…"


End file.
